


On Accident

by silklace



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silklace/pseuds/silklace
Summary: Jimmy gets caught.





	On Accident

**Author's Note:**

> a V-day blob for a-station-on-your-way, who requested accidental love confessions <3 
> 
> Originally posted to tumblr; archived here for posterity.

There’s the quick cut of pain, sharp like a bolt of iron in the soft part of his heart, but it’s easily smoothed over with a smirk as he steps inside the threshold to the washroom. “Practicing for Ivy?”

Jimmy, halfway through his litany of heartfelt declarations, turns sharply from the mirror, face gone moon-pale, sharpening like a fragile thing pulled from the dirt. He swallows, lip curled back in a sneer. “That’s right.” He looks terrified. “For Ivy.”

Knowing a thing or two about wounded animals, Thomas leans back against the door. He doesn’t make any sudden movements. “You’ll be alright,” he tells Jimmy, voice light. He wishes he had a cigarette, July’s damp fingers on his brow and his neck, pulling something water-softened and aching out of him. “Who wouldn’t fall in love with you?”

Thomas tells him again, three weeks later, when they’re in Jimmy’s room, doing a different kind of practice. _You’re so easy to love._ He slides his hand along Jimmy’s jaw, reverent, fingers shaking. “You said you’d help me practice, Thomas,” Jimmy manages, voice tight in something half-crossed between a whine and a snarl, raw and wounded. His hands are on Thomas’ hips, tight enough to leave fine print bruises.

“I am,” Thomas says, kissing across the knife cut of his jaw, the beautiful slope of his cheekbone, pressing the next word against the shape of Jimmy’s mouth; _my darling._ “You’re doing wonderfully.”

September has burnt off at the edges and welcomed the first fringes of autumn when Jimmy finally tells him, in halting, stumbling tones, _I’ve never bedded anyone,_ and Thomas doesn’t realize what he’s being asked for until Jimmy’s dropped to his knees. Still, it’s not until another week later, half-days finally coordinating up, the sky arching soft and blue and bewildering above them, that Thomas tells Jimmy, “You’re perfect, just like this,” and Jimmy gasps, Thomas’s cock inside him, inside him, inside him, and says, half-mad, “It was you, Thomas, it was always you.”

Thomas’s body shapes a cradle over him, like his heart is a cradle, desperate and wanting and holding Jimmy close to him. “There you are,” he says, kissing him soft and slow and sweet. “I was waiting for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
